


Choose Me

by scratchedandinked



Series: Deaf Oswald [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: But also, Deaf Oswald, Domestic, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sign Language, again like either of them would call it that, it's a two for one, mutually respecting crime husbands loving each other of course you know this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 12:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14355903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchedandinked/pseuds/scratchedandinked
Summary: Oswald loved Edward Nygma. It was the wonderfully sickening truth. He dreamed about a disgustingly civilian life with Ed-- and it was a beautiful dream. Oswald just hoped that no part of Ed ever resented him for the political crime life they found themselves in.Ed had normalcy once, but now all they had was each other.





	Choose Me

**Author's Note:**

> As always, signed dialogue is in italics.  
> Enjoy some sweeter ed/os this week!

In Gotham, life was not picturesque. White picket fences were graffitied, apple pies were stolen from window sills, and beautiful bay windows were shattered. Oswald knew this of course, and had no intentions of becoming a suburbanite at the height of his underworld career or his political one. But, some mornings, when Oswald would share the bathroom while Ed was showering, he’d wish for the chance to have  _ that _ life-- just as long as it took him to brush his teeth.

Ed had the habit of singing, the radio resting on the medicine cabinet and crooning songs Oswald never heard without his hearing aid. Oswald had been able to hear Ed’s singing months before, when his tinnitus had been more forgiving. In the past year, Ed’s singing drifted down into becoming impossibly muffled and quiet under the static of the running water. Without the sound, Oswald only had Ed to  _ look _ at. The frosted glass scattered the clear image of Ed’s body, but he could see his hands running over his chest and his head moving side to side as he enjoyed the silent beat. It was a disgusting desire; domestic and sweet.

The water stopped and Ed opened the glass door, arm reaching out for a towel blindly. Oswald looked down to the edge of the sink and picked up his glasses. He wiped the condensation from the lenses and made sure they were clean as Ed dried himself off. When Oswald allowed himself to look up and gaze at Ed with his mirror’s view, he only had a towel tied around his hips, both the skin and fabric taut as he stretched up, tossling the excess water out of his hair.

“Good morning, Ed.” Oswald said. He reached a hand out to touch Ed’s shoulder and calibrate his fogged depth perception as Oswald held his glasses out to Ed. He spoke since Ed was unable to see clearly. “Slow day planned today?”

“The closest thing to a day off, sir.” Ed laughed, hand taking his glasses and careful to not smudge them. “Perhaps we’ll be able to get through an entire newspaper without having to save the town from utter catastrophe.”

“Not likely.” Oswald said. The thought crossed his mind every time he sat down with Ed for breakfast. He wanted to remain suspended in the simplicity and superfluousness of their morning routines, but he knew that it wasn’t the life he signed up for. “But one can dream.”

“I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast and briefings.” Ed slid on his glasses and spoke with unwanted professionalism. His expression was even and steady, like he was speaking to an associate.

“Ed, wait.” Oswald held a hand out and touched his bare arm. His skin was still warm and Oswald’s fingers wanted to press into the flesh deeply, wanting to grip it in a way he only got to do late at night, the darkness hanging over them and concealing their every move.

“Yes, sir?” He stopped and turned to face Oswald.

“Nothing.” Oswald replied. He released Ed’s arm and leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. A droplet of water clung to Oswald’s nose as he pulled back. He wiped it and his pleased blush away before looking at Ed with commitmentless joy. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Ed nodded sharply, eyes falling to the floor as his hand rested against his cheek. He left muttering, words too quiet and lips no longer facing Oswald for him to catch. In the mirror, Oswald caught the corners of a smile lift on Ed’s face before disappearing down the hallway.

Growing up, Oswald never had a relationship to idolize, to fuel his foolish childish dreams about princes and their knights coming to save them. Instead, Oswald had bullies and mockery and his own beloved mother to tell him to be his own defender-- to be his own prince, dragon, and castle built up to the sky. He never dated, never loved  _ deeply _ before this-- he had no idea how it was supposed to feel to be a whole part of something larger.

Oswald loved Ed, this was simply fact by that point, but he also thought he felt something else. It wasn’t just selfless devotion, it wasn’t lustful infatuation. Oswald felt committed to Ed. Their paths had merged and there was no longer one without the knowing addition of the other.

He wondered what it would be like to have a life that simply revolved around being committed to each other. Waking up not to briefing sheets and appointments, but the warmth and company of the other. Oswald wouldn’t need to wear his hearing aid, living only with a man who knew his language like his slender fingers had know it their whole life. Things would be quiet for them.

Oswald grabbed his hearing aid from the counter and wedged it in his ear before heading down to breakfast. The table was set, two cups of hot tea resting at either head of the table. The room was otherwise deserted. While alone, Oswald had the chance to rearrange the table without looking as though he was correcting the serving skills of his house staff. He moved Ed’s teacup from the end of the table to the seat beside his own, their hands able to rest on the corner, and fingers accidentally brushing, in between sips.

Breakfast was one of the few moments where Oswald felt  _ loyal _ to Ed. They shared a bed, a room, a house, a career, but when Oswald sat by Ed every morning, it reminded him how much easier it could have been to choose loneliness. And Oswald was consistently pleased he remained loyal to Ed and chose him instead.

Ed was still running a hand through his damp hair as he strolled into the dining room. He was dressed sharply, keenly to Oswald’s taste (whether he knew or not). He was in black slacks and a pullover green sweater, the crisp white collar poking out the top. It was a simple look for the office, but Oswald liked to imagine this was what he’d look like in his own home-- back before he had press and meetings and appointments and a status to uphold. Oswald vaguely remembered their meeting in Ed’s apartment and how human he looked, despite beginning to spiral. It was a foolish memory to relish, but Oswald found no joy greater.

He wondered, if Ed knew normalcy, how could he give it up so easily?

_ What’s the agenda for today? _ Oswald asked, taking his seat and urging Ed to sit beside him. He knew there wasn’t much, but he wasn’t exactly sure where Ed would be off to that day. Hopefully just in his office, only down the hall from Oswald at all times.

_ I have a few errands to run for you, sir. I few in-person phone calls _ .

The underworld did not like using the telephone for business. Oswald also couldn’t been seen leaving a school and heading into a wanted criminal’s home to arrange how the courts will “lose” evidence. Ed had the ability to blend into the city and float between the two worlds easily. Oswald was anxious that one day, Ed would decide to stay in the world of daytime television and routine advert phone calls and dog walking. Thinking honestly though, he’d let Ed go. He’d want to follow, but knew his place.

_ What time can I expect you back? _

_ Not long after noon. I shouldn’t be long. Maybe earlier if I miss morning traffic _ \-- Ed stopped signing and looked at his watch. He seemed to debate the options.

_ Please, stay. Eat first _ . Oswald gently lowered Ed’s hand to the table and grinned. Breakfast was their time.

_ A single cup. _ Ed mouthed, his hands under Oswald’s.

Oswald released his hands and grabbed his own cup, lifting it to silently toast to their beloved morning routine that became tradition. Ed was already looking at the papers beside his place setting but held his cup up to Oswald’s anyhow. They shared a muted clink of china before getting to their briefs. Oswald’s were typed neatly onto a single page-- ordinances to sign, things to proof, dotted lines that needed signing-- while Ed’s was a much longer list. He shuffled through the pages, the corners of the grained, stiff stock dragging over itself slowly.

The sound was like velcro tearing in Oswald’s head. He tried to disguise his discomfort. Ed began to crumple a page and Oswald couldn’t help but groan and quickly reach for his hearing aid, hoping to yank it out before his ears began ringing again.

_ What’s wrong? _ Ed asked, head shooting up at Oswald’s pain.  _ Is it your aid again? _

_ It’s fine. Just, loud still. Very loud _ . Oswald didn’t know how to adjust it correctly, but had been trying over the past few weeks. If he only lived with Ed, he’d have no need for it. But, of course, that was another lost dream.

Ed glanced at his watch as he raised his hands to respond.  _ If I go now I can catch the audiologist before I have my first meeting _ .  _ I’ll have him come over tomorrow _ .

_ I’m fine, Ed _ .  _ It just needs minor adjusting _ .

_Minor?_ Ed laughed, genuinely amused by Oswald’s understatement. _Three days ago, you couldn’t even eat with your hearing aid in. The volume isn’t tuned correctly. You’re going to make your tinnitus worse._ _Let me do this_.

Oswald found it suddenly difficult to argue. He didn’t need favors, he didn’t need to be coddled, but Ed wanted to take care of him. He considered Oswald’s health an extension of his own.

Oswald felt sick. He was so in love with Edward Nygma. And he loved him back.

_ Thank you, Ed. I appreciate it _ .

_ Of course. _ He grinned and nodded at Oswald. Behind him another member of the staff came in, mouth already moving before Oswald could see her. Ed stood and bowed quickly. “I hate to cut things short, sir, but I must be off.”

“Yes, of course.” Oswald waved Ed out of the room and turned his attention to Genevieve still speaking. Oswald was forced to swallow the swelling warmth in his chest as he had to lock his eyes onto her lips. They didn’t move as clearly as Ed’s and misshaped every word.

He placed his hearing aid back in and left his wandering dream behind to resume his stricter life. Genevieve didn’t care Oswald was in love. His entire life was built around not being able to feel it.

* * *

Oswald’s headache set in shortly after the breakfast-turned-meeting with Genevieve. She spoke bluntly and with a brash tone, Oswald unsure how to tell her to quiet down when every other time he required his staff to raise their voices. She left the dining room after an hour, satisfied with Oswald’s resigned answer to let her do whatever it was she needed in order to  _ stop talking _ .

Alone, Oswald excused himself to his office, shutting his door and himself off from the rest of the house. He tore off his hearing aid and placed it on his desk as he slumped into his chair. 

He had made a terrible mistake. Becoming mayor got him closer to Ed, but now Oswald was trapped never being able to get close enough. They became more than employer and employee once Oswald offered Ed the chief-of-staff position and extended a place in his home. The transition was easy, but made every other change seem impossible. Oswald wasn’t sure how he was going to alter the empire he had built to allow Ed and  _ only _ Ed.

He didn’t want all the power and the status if it meant he couldn’t get what he  _ actually _ wanted. Self-serving justice was an excellent incentive to keep going, but the unceasing ringing in his ears was enough to twist his arms and make him willing to give everything up.

He just wanted the feelings of the morning to last. Oswald wanted the warm steam of Ed’s shower to encircle him every moment, carrying him from day to day with an undefined but gloriously simple purpose: love.

It was fucking foolish and it was a mistake. Everything was a mistake.

Oswald rested his head on his desk, trying to cut off his senses as his ears adjusted to the relieving silence. His forehead pressed against the cold wooden surface and he was able to finally release his long held exhale. It was quiet, and for once that wasn’t a problem. The ringing was still echoing in his right ear but it was slowly softening.

The air was still, the desk was cold, and Oswald’s office was empty. That was, it was empty of any other person beside him. The ironically present phone on Oswald’s desk rattled, allowing another voice to enter whether Oswald had the door closed or not.

The ringing shook the desk and Oswald lifted his head to confirm the disruption. He was surprised but really shouldn’t have been; the extension went from Ed’s phone to his own, but Ed should have been back by then. He slipped his hearing aid back in and lifted the phone quickly, the ringing amplifying to painful levels.

“Oswald Cobblepot.” He said, trying to settle the receiver against his right ear comfortably. Muddled static answered him. “Look, I’m sorry. I can’t understand you… Let me call you back later this afternoon, please.” The static was barely words to Oswald. He could decode frustration, but nothing that registered with him; it was Oswald’s job to have people annoyed with him. He’d have to give Ed the number to call. Yet another favor for him.

It would be, if Ed came back before lunch. He didn’t want to worry, instead the anxiety morphing into impatience.

“Genevieve!” Oswald said, standing and walking to his door. He opened it and called into the hallway. “Have we any word on Mr. Nygma?”

“Just one.” A voice spoke clearly and loudly on Oswald’s left side. He turned to face it, his head aching again as he felt his body tense. Ed was staggering in from the front door, sweater torn and nose dripping blood down the front of him.

“Ed! What happened? Oh goodness!”

“I’m okay, Oswald. I’m fine.” He waved a hand at Oswald and he could see swelling bruises around his knuckles; signing wasn’t an option. His promise was the last of Oswald’s worries though. “Loree got the jump on me with those new court deals. I’m okay.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go alone!” Oswald rushed from his office and grabbed Ed around the waist. Ed tried to continue leaning on the wall but Oswald guided him towards the stairs with a firm push. His face contorted as Oswald squeezed his side but he made no argument.

“It’s just business, sir. Please don’t worry about me.” Ed shook his head and tried wiping the blood from his upper lip. “We got everything worked out. And--  _ fuck _ \--” His hand flew over to grasp at Oswald’s lapel as they took the stairs. His lips pursed as he puffed out short grunts, Oswald’s hand accidentally pressing into Ed’s tender side as he himself limped up the stairs. Oswald quickly removed his hand and Ed’s face relaxed with a short laugh. “We should get a single floor home, shouldn’t we?” He grinned under the streaks of blood and swelling cheek bruise lifting his glasses off his face.

“When my term is up, we’re leaving more than just this house.” Oswald said firmly. He walked them to the bathroom. The room was no longer warm and humid.

“What? What are you talking about, Oswald?” Ed clung to Oswald’s lapels and swung himself into his line of sight. Even with blood on his face and wavering balance, he spoke clearly to him.

“I’m leaving politics and you are leaving me.” Oswald said, easing Ed down on the closed seat of the toilet. Despite Ed’s sharpness, Oswald could tell he had been thrown around and beaten with more than a few disgruntled fists. Ed’s nose was still dripping down and the capillaries around his eye were slowly swelling and purpling just below the surface.

_ What _ ? Ed signed, his mouth open but no words forming.  _ What are you talking about _ ?

“I got you out of Arkham to work with me-- I didn’t give you a chance to go back to a normal life, Ed. And now… now look at you.” Oswald placed a hand on Ed’s face, thumb gingerly stroking his cheek.

_ Sign to me. _

“I shouldn’t have asked you to learn--”

_ Sign to me, Oswald. Please. Stop this _ . Ed grabbed Oswald’s hands and held them in his signing space. He shook them when Oswald let them hang limply in Ed’s grip.  _ You’re putting words into my mouth _ .

“I’m sorry.” Oswald said, pulling his hands away. He went to their bathroom mirror and began grabbing first aid care for Ed’s cuts, bruises, and bleeding. “It hurts me to see you this way, Ed. You’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

Oswald ran hot water from the sink, getting some on a washcloth before turning to Ed. He stared up at Oswald, eyes wide and lips parted in aching devotion. Ed Nygma was not one to look submissive and weak, but he stared up at him like Oswald was going to deliver one final punch.

_ Oswald. This is not your fault _ . Ed placed a hand on Oswald’s stomach-- his chest up to high to reach.  _ I ran the errand, didn’t I? _

He didn’t respond and began dabbing the blood from Ed’s face. He was careful not to push onto his bruises, but firm enough to get the dried blood from his lip and cheeks. This wasn’t the way Oswald wanted to have Ed vulnerable and at his whim. Torture and beatings were not something Ed should have to have folded into his domestic life.

What had Oswald done to him? He was a monster.

_ Speak to me, Oswald _ .

_ What else hurts? _ Oswald asked.  _ Let me see your side _ .

Ed nodded and began pulling at his sweater. He pulled it over his head and revealed the white buttoned shirt underneath. There was little staining on it, which meant nothing underneath was bleeding. There were no cuts for Oswald to worry about needing to be stitched. Everything was still very much in his realm of care. With his bruised hands though, Ed fumbled with the buttons, Oswald intervening to ease his struggles. His fingers worked from the bottom while Ed stayed working at his top buttons. Their hands met in the middle, Oswald carefully pulling the two sides apart and running his hand over Ed’s chest. He felt first for any swelling, then let his hand rest over his heartbeat.

The soft thudding beat against Oswald’s hand in the same assuring way it sounded in his ear at night when he rested his head on Ed’s chest. It was the only comforting sound left. It was his side, possibly ribs, that had been injured but Ed remained still and let Oswald’s hands hover over his heart.

_ I want to think it beats for me _ . Oswald admitted foolishly, removing his hand.  _ But I need to know that we are nothing more than something of convenience. Of mutually assured destruction and power. _

Oswald ran his hands down to Ed’s sides. The swelling was minimal but still tender as he pressed on it gently. Ed’s attempted rebuttal was lost in a short gasp and groan. His face contorted in something mirroring previous pleasure. The two worlds, personal and painful, shouldn’t have come so close together for Ed. Oswald shouldn’t have let them.

_ It doesn’t beat for you _ . Ed answered.  _ But that’s because you don’t need it to, Oswald. You are not in need of completion. _

_ I need you, Ed _ . Oswald admitted. He lowered himself and kneeled in front of Ed, placing his hands on his knees.  _ And I can’t bare the thought of you being harmed _ .  _ Those bastards will pay and you won’t ever have to _ \--

_ I love my work _ . Ed said, with a short laugh.  _ I get to threaten entire rooms with the power of the Mayor’s Office. I get to  _ **_have_ ** _ the power of the Mayor’s Office on my side. _

_ I just wished you could have the life you had before _ .

_ I don’t. _ Despite his swelling eye and cheekbone, Ed quirked an eyebrow and smirked.  _ Failed attempts to talk to women, one bedroom apartments, isolated from the rest of the world by my own discomfort? I’ll pass _ .

_ I don’t like when you lie to me, Edward _ .

_ Do I? _ He posed, blinking at Oswald with flat surprise. He was bruised and losing the ability to see out of his left eye but he was nothing but honest with Oswald.  _ Not often _ .

_ I don’t want you to resent me _ .

_ Not likely _ .

Oswald sighed and rested the side of his head on Ed’s knees. Maybe the life they were meant to have together was the one they were living. The power, control, and violence held tight hands with the soft loving one running over Oswald’s cheek.

“May I?” Ed asked tapped Oswald’s ear lightly, careful to not hit his hearing aid. Oswald nodded and Ed slowly unwedged it from his ear. The pressure and tension drained from Oswald as he watched Ed place his aid on the ledge of the sink. His hand lowered into his line of vision:  _ Fix later _ .

“Fix?” Oswald echoed. His arms looped loosely around Ed’s legs.

_ You never let me finish my sentence earlier. _ Ed answered. Oswald lifted his head and rested his chin back on Ed’s legs, looking up at him with eager eyes. The rest of the room was silent to his movements.  _ I learned how to tune your hearing aid. _

“And you still remember after getting your brain battered around your skull.”

_ You act like I forget things regularly. I’m insulted _ . Ed pursed his lips and recoiled. The fast movement tightened his teasing expressing into one of genuine discomfort. He rolled his neck and breathed slowly, his cheeks puffing before relaxing as his mouth hung open. Oswald couldn’t hear him panting but he could feel the lasting heat and breeze as Ed tried to blink himself back into the conversation.

“You should lie down.” Oswald said. “I’ll get a doctor to look at you.”

_ That’s not necessary _ . Ed shook his head.  _ You’ve taken fine care of me _ . _ This is mostly soreness. Gone after some rest _ .

_ Well then let’s get you into bed _ . Oswald placed his hands back on Ed’s knees and held them firm as he got to his feet again. Ed looked back up at him, eyes still wide and lips parted, and held his hands out to Oswald. Without needing to be asked, he laced their fingers together and eased Ed back up to his feet.

Their pace was slow, but the bedroom wasn’t that far away anyhow. Oswald walked backwards, Ed being his eyes and nodding him left and right as they shuffled down the hall. Ed seemed to be better balanced than when he first got home, but his steps were more stiff. His hands seemed to lose their swelling, but the redness on his knuckles still remained. He was roughed up-- nothing that, with a rational mind, would worry Oswald-- but every wince and stagger made Oswald want their quiet nothing life.

But, then again, with all their power and time, why couldn’t they?

Once in their room, Oswald released Ed’s hand to turn and shut the door. He pressed his hand up against the door jam to feel the lock click correctly before turning back around. Ed had already begun trying to tug at his clothes, sinking onto the edge of the bed. His shirt was already unbuttoned, but sliding it off his shoulders involved a range of motion he wasn’t ready for. Oswald got over as quickly as he could and took over for Ed. The fabric slid off his shoulders and onto the mattress without another moment of fuss. Without being too obvious, Oswald checked Ed’s chest again for any swelling to raise concern. He found nothing. But he kept staring anyway.

_ Liking what you see _ ? Ed said. He kicked off his shoes and let them hit Oswald as they fell.

_ Looking for injuries _ .

_ Right. _ Ed lifted one of the fingers used to sign and curled it inward, motioning Oswald forward. He hesitated, looking at the dried blood at the base of Ed’s nose and the bruises on his face while another seemed to grow before his very eyes on his forearm.  _ I’m not asking you to do anything you didn’t already have in mind _ .

_ Ed _ \--

_ Come here. _ Ed grabbed Oswald by the hand and pulled him onto the mattress beside him. Together, they laid back, legs hanging over the edge and feet gently brushing as they swung back and forth.  _ Here, take these _ . Ed removed his glasses and handed them trustfully to Oswald’s hand-- just left of it, actually.

Once the glasses were placed out of their way, Ed squinted and began looking for Oswald’s moving hands. There was nothing to say; Ed only removed his glasses when he was about to sleep or shower. It seemed Ed had been somewhat in Oswald’s head all day; he saw the way Oswald was looking and dreaming about him, and seemed to think the same. Or maybe he just needed a warm body to help the healing process.

Oswald wasn’t going to spiral thinking about it. He trusted Ed wanted the same thing; to be close to him. They got very few chances with their busy lives, maybe these were the only moments they had. This would be their domestic bliss; stolen moments after a day of mob busting.

Oswald pulled Ed closer to him, guiding his head to rest on his chest. Ed didn’t resist, his eyes already closed before even lying down to rest. Ed’s hair was matted with small splatters of blood, catching on Oswald’s fingers as he carded through his hair. The tug was light and Oswald was unsure and unable to hear if Ed voiced discomfort. Ed’s hand resting on Oswald’s chest relaxed and stretched his fingers to slot in the gaps between the buttons of his vest. In a matter of moments though, everything was still again. The room was frozen, the lights were dim and the curtains were drawn, and Ed’s chest was rising and falling in a familiar pattern.

He didn’t have to give everything up to be close to Ed. Pride was the one thing standing in his way when honesty would have been a much better fit. None fitting better than the side of Ed’s face in the crook of Oswald’s neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ednygmas-twinklegs! xo


End file.
